


Living On Borrowed Time

by allonsysilvertongue



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Hayffie AU, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5974956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsysilvertongue/pseuds/allonsysilvertongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” - JRR Tolkien.</p><p>A hayffie soulmate AU where your soulmates’ clock shows their lifespan and time can be transferred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea from the movie ‘In Time’ for quite a while. I think at some point, I even talked to an anon about this on my blog. A draft has been sitting on my Dropbox folder for years until I finally went back to it today and fleshed it out. For those who have not watched ‘In Time’, it’s a movie where time has replaced money as currency. At 25, everyone will have one year left to live and they all each have their own clock ticking down to 0:00, their death. In the movie, an individual is able to transfer time to someone, their loved ones mostly, so they won’t “time-out” and die.
> 
> For a long time, I found the concept interesting. However, I wanted to write something to make it a soulmate AU. So for this, you have your soulmate’s clock instead of your own but you still can transfer time over to your soulmate (or steal it if your soulmate is an ass ahaha).
> 
> Also, I saw a post here on tumblr where “the only way for your scars to disappear is if when your soulmate kisses them”. So I thought, why not combine the two?

The clock was imprinted on his arm, slightly above his wrist which was convenient since it could easily be covered with the sleeves of his shirt. He had it for as long as he could remember; a mark that meant he had someone out there whose soul was a kin to his, someone to whom he belonged to.

It had annoyed him greatly, angered him even. "I don't belong to _anyone_ , Mama!"

His mother had merely smiled at him and patted his shoulder, saying, "Don't you want to have someone the way your father has me?"

He had paused and tilted his head, his young mind thinking it through but he thought of the way his father came home with bottles he would hide from his mother, bottles that Haymitch help to keep hidden because his father had asked him to. He thought of the extra money his mother worked hard to earn only for his father to spend and he shook his head.

"Not really," he mumbled and to prove his point, he found himself a girl a few years later.

Maia wasn't his, which was fine, because one could still live and love without a soulmate. He knew because when Maia was whipped at the post and barely breathing, the numbers on his arm remained the same.

"You won't leave me, will you?" She asked weakly, staring at the numbers. "We're not - I'm not your..."

"Never," he promised, young and foolish, and sealed it with a kiss on one of the scars left behind from the whipping. He gritted his teeth when the scar remained red and angry. He wasn't hers either.

To begin with, nobody knew how these things _really_ worked. Some said that the clock would show your soulmates' natural lifespan until something happened that could affect their safety. Some said that time could be transferred, and a soulmates' life could be prolonged when it was in danger of running out.

He thought mankind shouldn't be allowed to play with fate like that until it happened to his parents. His father had left for the mines as usual all those years ago when his father's clock on his mother's body changed to five hours. When he failed to come home that night, Isla Abernathy had locked herself in her room, crying. Haymitch didn't understand why she had given up that easily or why she didn't leave to look for him. He could still be alive, he thought, but she already knew that her husband was dead.

She told him that years later, and she told him that she wished she could have given him some years.

"If someone's going to die, they're going to die still," he had said in a poor attempt to soothe her.

"If I had given him at least an hour, we could have gotten him to a hospital. Maybe there would still be hope."

"Maybe," he had shrugged his shoulders.

He was 31 when he discovered it was Effie Trinket's lifespan ticking away on his arm. It left him reeling with shock and numb with dread.  He had spent days afterwards avoiding her and he had spent days in front of the mirror touching the spot on his shoulder where his scar from falling off a tree had been. It wasn't there. His skin was smooth and unmarred just as it had been a day after Effie had kissed it while they were in bed.

It was her. There were no other women that he had slept with after her. It was her thumb that brushed his scar. It was her lips on his shoulder that night. It was her kiss that made the scar disappeared.

It was Effie with fifty-two years on her clock.

They had slept with each other often enough for him to know every the things that made her squirm, the spots that made her moan and he could map every inch of her skin. The familiarity he had with her body used to scare him but there was comfort in it too, a sense of finding of home.

Effie bore a clock of someone's life on her rib cage right below her right breast. He never knew if it was his time, never asked if she knew.

She may be _his_ soul mate, but it didn't mean he was hers.

Haymitch licked her skin, a hand palming her breast as he kissed his way down her stomach to where he knew she wanted to his mouth to be. The grip on his hair tightened as she arched her back at the thrust of his tongue. She came writhing on the bed a few strokes and some long, hard sucking later.

“Haymitch,” a throaty breath escaped her lips.

He raised his head, a smirk on his face.

“You okay?” he asked, watching her coming down from her high.

Wordlessly, Effie nodded, still trying to get her breathing under control. He stroked her lazily, first on her inner thigh and then the skin below her breast as he hauled himself up next to her.

His eyes fell on the clock and not for the first time, he wondered who that man with thirty more years to his life.

He didn’t realise that his fingers were digging into her skin until she hissed in pain. “Sorry,” he mumbled, kissing that spot to soothe the sting.

He had tried to find some scars on her body but her skin was flawless and smooth, and short of him taking a knife to leave a scar behind, he would never find out if he was hers.

He did wonder at times as they lay together if she felt something, _anything_ for him the way being next to her made his soul thrummed in contentment and his mind to calm.

Propping herself on her side, she said out of the blue, “you are different.”

Haymitch snorted. “Different how? Tonight wasn’t good for you or somethin’?”

“You know it was. We’ve always been good in bed together. The things we do…” she trailed off to run a finger down his chest. “It’s just… I can’t place my finger on it but you are distant, Haymitch. Is there something – “

“We’ve been over this, Effs,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

With a sigh, she laid her head back on the pillow. “What is going to happen at midnight? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Again,” he let out a breath in annoyance, “we’ve been over this. Just do what I ask you to do. Don’t ask questions. I’ll explain everythin’ later. Didn’t I say that already? I know I’m askin’ for a lot of trust here but -”

Effie shook her head. “You misunderstand. I trust you. Of course, I do. I know you won’t let anythin’ happen to me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I won’t. Just hold it together for a little while. I’ll answer everything then.”

He never did get to explain himself because when the arena exploded and they landed in District Thirteen, Effie was not there.

Cressida and her team jumped out of the second hovercraft and Haymitch waited for Effie to come forward. He stilled when he realised she was not onboard.

"Where is she?"

"She never made it to the rendezvous point," Cressida informed him. "We waited for five minutes and we had to leave."

He wasted no time in rolling up his sleeves. His heart plummeted.

That morning, Effie Trinket had on her 40 years, 2 months, 7 days and 5 hours. What he saw on his arm was 1 year and 3 hours exactly. She had just lost thirty-nine years of her life.

“We need to send someone back,” Haymitch insisted as he caught on to Plutarch, hurrying alongside that man. “They’ve got Effie. She would have made it to the rendezvous point otherwise. She knew how important it was for her to get there. She’s in danger. Are you hearin’ me, Plutarch?”

“Peeta and Johanna are in danger too,” Plutarch pointed out. “So is Annie if they really want to use her for Finnick. We can’t risk it, Haymitch. It needs to be planned out with careful details.”

Haymitch watched, helpless, as the numbers kept decreasing. He could do nothing except to check his arm each morning to see her life slipped away from her.

“I can give it to her,” he said, running a hand over his face.

“Only to prolong her suffering?” Finnick asked. “Maybe it’s better if – “

“No,” he snapped. “You go on wishing that Annie die in that prison, Finnick, but I ain’t going to think that way. As long as there’s still a way to get them out of there, I ain’t giving up. I just need… I just need more time. I need her to have more time until we can get them here.”

“You don’t know how many years you have on you,” Finnick countered. “It’s a big risk giving her your time without knowing how much you _can_ give. What if your clock runs out?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beetee interrupted their argument. “You can’t give your time to her. It’s physically impossible. To do a transfer, you would need her hand in yours. That’s how it works.”

“They’re doing things to her – torturing her,” Haymitch collapsed on the chair, the exhaustion eating him to the bones. “Why would time run out so quickly for her? 44 weeks left and we’re not even – “

"That's 11 months, Haymitch. We don’t need 44 weeks,” Plutarch said. “We can get her out sooner. Be patient."

"It’s 44 weeks today, 30 maybe by tomorrow. The fucking clock ain’t a constant thing, is it?" Haymitch snarled.

Within the next few days, the clock on Effie’s life dropped to ten weeks. With Peeta’s deteriorating condition, Katniss’ role as the Mockingjay and his own worry for Effie’s life, Haymitch’s anxiety increased. He bitterly joked with Finnick one day of the direct correlation between Effie’s life and his stress level.

Haymitch tried hard not to think of what Effie was going through. He forced himself not to picture the torture she was undoubtedly enduring but it only lasted for so long because when the lights went out and his sober mind had nothing to dull the thoughts, he laid in bed thinking about her, desperately wishing there was a way for him to give some of his years to her. If all he had left was five years, he would give everything to her.

In retrospect, he thought, Katniss’ breakdown came at a very appropriate time. The rescue was sanctioned as soon as Beetee’s plans were finalised.

 _12 hours_ , he checked his arm. She was getting worse. _Hold on for 12 hours, sweetheart._

They wheeled her in battered and bruised, and unconscious. Her hand hung limply off the side of the gurney and he stopped the soldier.

_9 hours._

“We need to get her to the hospital,” the soldier argued.

“I know. Just give me a second.”

He touched her arm and gripped it tight.

“Not too many, Haymitch,” Beetee advised. “Just enough for them to examined and treat her for now. We need to keep you safe. Give her in hours.”

He gave her twenty-four. The numbers on his arm increased.

The soldier’s eyes widened as did the nurse standing by.

“We’ll keep her alive,” the nurse promised. “We’ll try our best.”

“Thank you,” Haymitch nodded and when he turned, he saw Finnick giving Annie the months she had lost in prison. “Are you her soulmate?”

“Yes,” Finnick nodded. “She wouldn’t take it but I convinced her to.”

“How many more years do you have then?”

Finnick gave him a wry smile. “Lesser than it was yesterday.”

Haymitch didn’t push for answers that the boy didn’t want to give him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Something was wrong.

His brows knitted together as he stared at his arm.

"That can't be right," Finnick jostled him, looking at the clock. "Didn't you give her some?"

"Twenty-four hours," Haymitch said. "She should have thirty at least. It can't go down this fast."

His chair scraped noisily against the floor as he stood up. Katniss stirred but remained sleeping. Barking an order at Finnick and Beetee to get him the moment Katniss opened her eyes, Haymitch left in a hurry to get to Effie.

The numbers should increase as she received treatment. He gave her those hours so the doctors could treat her until she was out of danger and once her body started to heal, her lifespan would increase. The clock never lied which meant Effie Trinket was dying in the hospital room.

Haymitch barged into the treatment room, ignoring the protests of the nurses.

"Effie Trinket – where is she? Which room?"

"This way… But you are not allowed in. You can wait here."

"Like hell I will," he growled, turning the door handle and letting himself in. "What's happening? What's wrong with her?"

The nurse from earlier glanced up and the look of recognition flickered across her face. "Is something wrong?"

"She's got 6 hours," Haymitch answered. "Two hours ago when she came in from the Capitol, she had more than a day to go by."

"You need to leave," someone tried to push him out.

"No, no," the doctor shook his head. "Let him stay. We've done all the major procedures that needed to be done. It's fine. Sit here, Mr. Abernathy, and talk to her. _Talk_ to her. She's giving up and if she does, nothing I do will save her."

Effie was lying on her stomach, her face turned to her side. They had cleaned her face of the dirt and grime, and what remained was a pale-faced woman with chapped lips and sunken cheeks.

Haymitch settled down near her head and tried not to look at the multiple lashes on her back. The wound had festered and the doctor was trying to clean the pus and abscess for a better look at the extent of her injuries.

"Hey, sweetheart," he began.

He shifted in his seat, slightly uneasy. Glancing up, he noticed that the nurses were not even paying him any attention, focused instead on their work. He raised a hand and brushed the stray hairs off her face. There was a cut near her temple and he ran his thumb lightly against it.

"I'm here, sweetheart," he spoke to her, keeping his voice low. "I don't know what's happenin' but you're losing time fast. You ain't bleeding to death or anythin' like that so I don't – You're stubborn enough not to give up this easily. You don't give up. You could have given up on me and walked away all those years ago, take up that promotion and find another district, but you didn't. So don't you fucking give up on me now."

He heaved a breath and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. He pulled on the collar of his uniform, suddenly feeling hot and bothered. A heavy sense of dread had settled in his chest from the moment he stepped into this room. He felt suffocated and his fingers scratched against his neck, clawing at the invisible tendril he thought was wounding its away around his throat and squeezing it.

The numbers on his arms was five hours and thirty minutes. Her life was slipping away and it felt as if _he_ was the one dying together with her.

Nothing felt right with him at the moment and he figured it was the bond acting up. The connection was intricate and unfathomable, and a part of him loathed it. It made him yearn for her when the Games were not in session. It made him incapable of keeping his hands to himself. Effie often said it was because she was irresistible and because his lust was insatiable. She could be right, he supposed, or it could also be because she was his and he needed to be with her; to touch her, to feel her, to hold her close. It made him dependent on her and there was nothing that irked him more than that.

He envied her at times. Free to be on her own, unshackled.

"We've got you someplace safe. All you need to do is hold on alright?" he continued in the same quiet tone, muttering against her skin. "You got to keep fighting. Katniss and Peeta need you. You've no damn idea who you are to me, Effie. No idea. And I need you alive. So while you are still breathing, you stay alive."

"It's too infected," the doctor's voice broke through him. "The poisoning is – She's going into shock!"

Haymitch was pushed aside. He watched her body convulsed in a strange detached manner, knowing for a fact that she would not die. It wasn't her time. There was still a few hours left. In five hours, another shock _might_ send her into cardiac arrest and kill her, but not this one. She would survive _this_ only to suffer later.

When the needle pricked her skin and the convulsion stopped, the nurse approached him.

"Let me see your arm," she requested.

He pulled his sleeve and sucked in a breath. _Three hours._

"I thought so. The shock affects her heart, made it weaker. Are you able to give more? We need more time to treat her. Another day...?"

He nodded numbly, took her arm and held it tight in his palm. _27 hours._

He heard words such as 'possible drowning', 'fractured ribs' and 'collapsed lungs' without truly listening to understand.

Even as he left her side for a short while to check on the others, he kept a close eye on the clock.

"I'm lucky I haven't got anyone to worry myself to death like that," Johanna croaked, turning her head to talk to him. "Pun intended."

"Horrible pun but yeah," he shrugged, giving her a sardonic smirk, "you get to choose who you want to be with or not."

"Don't you? Just 'cause Trinket's your soulmate, it doesn't mean you got to be with her."

Haymitch snorted. "You think I haven't tried? One night stand doesn't work anymore, something always get in the way. I tried to avoid her and something inside me _burns._ Fate's a bitch."

"Clearly. If you're not her soulmate, you're going to spend the rest of your life miserable. Your realize that, huh?"

"Haymitch has to be Effie's soulmate," Annie chimed in confidently from where she sat perched on Johanna's bed. "That's how it works. You are hers and she is yours, just like Finnick and I. Maybe she hasn't realized it yet, that's all, but when she does and her soul is triggered and tuned in to yours the way yours is tuned in to hers, nothing will stand in your way."

"Yeah, Haymitch, listen to the crazy one," Johanna snickered. "Oh, and Trinket just lost three hours."

He found himself hurrying to her ward again. The minutes ticked away as fast as Haymitch could drink to the bottom of a bottle. The doctor was certain that her physical injuries would heal and yet, as Haymitch sat with her, he watched the numbers kept decreasing and he kept giving without a thought – five, six, twelve hours as long as she continued to have a day to her life.

Plutarch was sympathetic and Finnick, on some level, understood why he needed to do it. Beetee, on the other hand, tried to put some sense into him, resulting in a loud argument in Effie's hospital room.

"You can't keep doing that. You're wasting _your_ time. You kept giving and it kept vanishing because she's not fighting back. This is illogical. Think about it."

"Screw your logic, Beetee," Haymitch spat. "As long as there's something I can do, I'm going to do it. I have all this time – _my_ time, _my_ life – so I'll do what I want with it."

"It's a fool's errand given that you are completely in the dark on how many years you have on you. You have already given her – what? – a week, a month of your life? You're not even keeping track."

"She in that prison for weeks," he growled low in his throat. "What's a fucking week of my life compared to that? She wouldn't be in there if it wasn't for me."

"Don't put that blame on you. It's not your fault. They got to her first," Plutarch added.

"Yeah? Try telling that to the boy," he waved his hand at Finnick. "Cause let me tell you, Plutarch, he's still sitting there thinking there was a way for him to save Annie when she was in Four. Effie wasn't in Four, was she? No, she was with me in the Capitol. I could have made it so she was on the same hovercraft as me."

"What good will you be to Katniss and Peeta if your time runs out?" Beetee said, careful to keep a congenial tone. "Your responsibility is not to Ms. Trinket alone. There are others here who are dependent on you."

Haymitch exhaled and ran his fingers through her hair. Beetee, loathe as he was to admit it, was right. Katniss had started something that they had all been waiting for years and Katniss could not do this without him by her side.

He just wished he didn't have to sacrifice Effie but if he were to drop dead because his time ran out, it wouldn't do the world any good.

"This shit destroys you," he glanced over his shoulder to look at them. "I've seen what it's done to Iris Everdeen when she lost her husband," _and to my mother_ , he swallowed the words. "It _destroys_ you."

And he knew that losing her would do the same to him when he had already lost so many others.

"I'm sorry, Haymitch, but you have to face the facts. She is living on borrowed time. She would have died yesterday if it wasn't for you."

"It's not borrowed," he shook his head. "It was given freely."

"Effie?" Finnick started, lurching forward.

Haymitch's head snapped back to see her staring at the ceiling, blue eyes hazy and unfocused. Her breathing was shallow and she scrunched her eyes as if in pain but she was awake.

Nothing else mattered to him.

XxX

Each night, he gave her a few hours to last through the night, just for his peace of mind, prolonging her life and giving her body time to heal. It took her a few more days to regain her strength and Haymitch stopped discreetly palming hours when he checked his arm to see that she had gained two more days on her own without his help.

"When I first woke up, you were arguing. What did you give me?" she asked, sitting propped on the bed.

"Medicine," he deadpanned.

She studied him for a long time before she looked away. "You are lying."

Haymitch nudged her gently and she shuffled a little to make room for him. He moved to the bed, legs stretched out before him and leaned back as he placed his arm behind her. She scooted close and tucked her head on his shoulder.

"Will you stay? Stay with me tonight."

"Yeah."

They were good with silences. In the beginning, it was often to ignore the other but they learnt to be comfortable in it. He could spend his time drinking quietly in the Penthouse listening to her pen scratch against paper as Effie plan the schedule for the team and this time, it was no different. For a long while, the only sound was of them breathing and the low hum of the machines in the room.

"I heard you," she voiced out suddenly, jolting him awake. "You were talking to me and telling me not to give up. I heard you. Was it real?"

"Yes. The doctor said I should."

"I wanted to die in that prison, Haymitch. I never wanted the suffering and I wanted it to end. Johanna wouldn't let me. She was relentless and vulgar but she kept me alive long enough. I was a coward. I wanted to die. I was a coward."

"You're not," Haymitch frowned. "Don't say shit like that."

"There was so much pain, more than my body could bear. I couldn't stand to see the look in Peeta's eyes each time they hurt me to get to him. I didn't want to go on anymore. I thought with me gone, they would stop hurting Peeta."

"They wouldn't. They'd find something or someone else."

She wiped the tears away and Haymitch let her a moment to gather herself.

"I don't remember being brought here," she gestured at the hospital room. "Do you remember your nightmares when you wake up, Haymitch? Because I do. In my dreams, I wanted to leave, put it all behind but – "

"But what?"

"It's strange," she mused. "There was a part of me that believed so firmly that it wasn't yet my time. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't turn my back on it. Something was pulling me," she burrowed further into him and changed the subject. "This is nice. You've never held me like this before."

He cleared his throat. "Good," he forced the words out. "Don't be in such a hurry to leave."

"I don't think I will be leaving so soon now. I was gone for a while and look at what you're wearing. Utterly dreadful," she clicked her tongue.

Haymitch bit his tongue. He should probably tell her that once she was discharged, she would have to wear what he was wearing but he decided that he would much rather see her face when she realized nothing else exist in her wardrobe except the grey uniforms.

A wave of emotions rolled over him and engulfed him, and he sat up straighter.

"Look, sweetheart," he said suddenly, turning to look at her. "None of this was supposed to happen the way it did. You were supposed to be safe in District Thirteen with me. I should have gotten you on the hovercraft that I was on instead of – "

She placed a finger on his lips and shook her head.

"I will have you know that I am angry you kept me in the dark. I trust you but you didn't have the same trust in me. There will be a time to talk about this. Not now, Haymitch. I'm tired and I don't want to fight with you tonight. Hold me until I fall asleep. I sleep better that way."

"Bossy," he muttered even as he kissed her temple.

She laughed lightly but it faltered at the sight of him.

Haymitch was staring. The line of scar on her temple was shrinking and right before his eyes, it disappeared completely as if Effie never bore the mark to begin with.

Years ago, he had desperately kissed his girl's scar in the hopes of seeing it gone but fate had disappointed him and now…

"What's the matter, Haymitch?" Effie held his arm in a death grip. "Is something wrong?"

He swallowed, lost for words. His hands shook and with trembling fingers, he reached out to unbutton her blouse.

"No," Effie pushed his hand away, her eyes widened in alarm. "No, I'm not in the mood – "

"Just let me," he pleaded, voice raw. "It's not sex that I want but I _need_ to know."

The two buttons came undone and there, on her collar bone was another angry red scar, a knife mark. His eyes sought hers. She stared back uncomprehendingly. Without another word, he dropped a kiss to it and she gasped at the unexpected gesture.

"Haymitch?"

He grabbed a small hand held mirror and held it front of her so she could see the scar disappearing.

"Do you see it? Do you know what it means?"

She said nothing, her eyes fixed on the scar. She ran a finger over it in awe much like he had years ago when Effie had made his scar disappeared.

"Effie," he shook her lightly. "Look at me."

"You're my -" she choked on the words. Her blue eyes searched his and she framed his face with her hands. "You're mine."

That sent a chill down his spine and he forced himself to breathe. Something else was on his mind. His clock – the years counting down to what remained of his life – was on her ribcage. He grabbed the end of her hospital blouse and bunched it in his hand only to pause.

_Do I really want to know?_

Realising that he would eventually see it, he pushed the blouse up and blinked at the numbers staring up at him. He leaned back. It was a relief to know he wouldn't be dying in this war even if being in the middle of it had nearly cut his lifespan in half.

_15 years 3 months and 11 hours._


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter 3 **

Effie was awake.

He could hear her soft footfalls on the padded floor followed by the sound of the door creaking quietly as she entered the bathroom. She paused, uncertain, and then crossed the space between them to wound her arms around his stomach. He stilled for a split second before he caught himself, thinking of how foolish it was. This was Effie.

She pressed her cheeks between his shoulder blades. A quiet hum reverberated between his muscles as she spoke, “good morning.”

“Morning,” he mumbled a greeting and went back to brushing his teeth.

When he was done, he turned around, his arms coming up to wrap themselves around her. She leaned against him, her cold nose pressing against his neck. He could get use to this, he mused. The two presidents were dead and with Katniss’ trial over and her fate sealed, no one was demanding his time or his mind. He was relieved to be left alone. The world was buzzing outside as people tried to settle and pick up the pieces of their life but in this apartment, there was only him and Effie. He could get use to _this._

“You are coming, yeah?” he asked just to be certain. Haymitch tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You are all packed for Twelve?”

 “Yes, stop worrying,” she grinned. “That is usually my job.”

“Hmmm.”

They remained locked in each other’s embrace for a while with his back leaning against the sink. Her eyes inevitably fell on the numbers on his arms. It was difficult not to miss when he was half dressed. He felt her gaze and cleared his throat, reaching out to grab a shirt hanging off the side of the tub.

“Don’t,” she stopped him as she ran a thumb over the digits. “It is … I must admit that it is disconcerting to see the years I have left to live. Sometimes, I wonder if it is better not to know. There is some bliss to be found in being ignorant after all.”

He understood it. It still sent a jolt running through him to wake up each morning now with the knowledge of Effie’s remaining years. There were days he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

"Then don't look," he said instead.

She gave him a small smile, her eyes taking on a thoughtful look.

“How is it that when I found out about you in that hospital, I had less than three days to my life and now… Now, I have fifty years to it.”

 

Haymitch snorted. His hands came to rest on her waist. Pushing her slightly away from him so he could take a look at her, he leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“Because you fought and you let your body heal,” he answered, trailing a kiss down her neck.

He tugged her robe so it fell slightly off her shoulder and kissed the spot. He had been working on healing all her scars. The major ones, the ones she often lamented were ugly, which was on her back were gone. It was the little marks and scars that he enjoyed kissing away now.

Haymitch maneuvered them so it was her against the sink and turned her around.

“Found another,” he mumbled as he trailed a finger on her shoulder blade.

“No, leave that,” she shook her around and turned, looping her arms around his neck. “He pressed a knife to that spot and told me I won’t ever leave the prison but I did and I’m alive, and I want to remember it.”

Effie kissed the frown on his face away and he let the subject drop.

“What are you doing to do with fifty years, huh? I’m not going to be there for the remaining thirty five years of it,” he chuckled into her skin. “Must be so _boring._ ”

He missed the abrupt loss of her body warmth when she pulled away, glaring at him angrily.

"Don't joke about that. I’ve told you repeatedly that this is not something to laugh about.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry,” he muttered. “Come here.”

She raised her nose at him and huffed.  It made him snickered. Effie moved towards the tub to sit at the edge of it.

“You used to have more than thirty years on the clock,” she pointed out. “Just because I didn’t know what you mean to me at that point in time, it didn’t mean I don’t remember the numbers.”

"War," he told her simply. "Life hazard."

"Maybe if you go easy on the alcohol.... We can try that, Haymitch."

"How long will that buy me, Effs? Two years, maybe three at most?"

"That's eighteen years. That will still be something."

He looked away. Grabbing the face towel off the rack, he began patting his face with it. She was still watching him, waiting for him to say something.

"If someone's going to die, then they're going to die," he told her the same words he had told his mother before. “There’s no escaping it.”

 _Even if you did once,_ he added quietly but she didn’t need to know that.

"I don't want to be like Annie," she admitted. "She's lost her spark, Haymitch. A part of her was lost when Finnick… I don’t think I can go through what she is going through. I’m not strong enough. I - I can't do this without you."

“Stop underestimating yourself. Humans are adaptable. We learn. Annie’s going to take some time but she’s going to learn how to move on without Finnick. She has to for her kid. You will too when put into a corner. This soulmate business isn’t a be-all and end-all, sweetheart.”

“Well, maybe, I don’t want to be put into a corner.”

Haymitch sighed, a little frustrated that he wasn’t getting through to her. 

“Thirty five years is a long time. You can make a life for yourself after I'm - "

"Don't say it," Effie snapped, irked by his response.

"Don't say what? That I'll die before you because that's the truth, Effie. You need to accept it. You _better_ accept it ‘cause it’s not gonna change.”

“No,” she denied and grabbed his arm as she jumped to her feet. “It’s cruel to have two souls linked only for one to be wrenched away. It’s a tragedy, Haymitch.”

“We aren’t promised a long life with each other, sweetheart,” he shot back. “Not how it works, is it?”

“Time should be fair! Time should be given to us equally and I - "

Effie broke off mid-sentence to stare at his arm. Naturally, he followed her gaze and roughly snatched his hand away from her grip.

"For fuck's sake, Effie,” he cursed loudly, “what have you done?"

"I - I don't … What happened? How did the numbers ... Haymitch?"

_45 years._

He lurched forward, pulling the drawstrings of her robe free. It parted and he pushed the garment aside, angling her body so that her right rib was towards him.

His clock read twenty years.

Haymitch had just gained five years when Effie had lost hers.

_Not lost. Unknowingly given._

“Oh my god,” she gasped loudly, a hand rose to cover her mouth as her eyes flickered between the two life clocks.

He knew the exact, precise moment when it all fell in place for her. The understanding sent her staring at him with wide blue eyes seeking for further clarity.

“Did my years… Yours just…” she stammered uncharacteristically.

Frustrated by her inability to form a sentence, she stopped and forced herself to take deep calming breaths but her mind was working a mile a minute. Something shifted in that room; an energy that sent a dosage of excitement running through her. Her eyes were a bright blue, sparkling in the bathroom.

“Haymitch!” she trilled.  “Haymitch, do you know what this means? Oh, this is marvelous! It’s true. It’s definitely true what they said. Time _can_ be transferred.”

They had always been a contrast against each other; her optimism against his pessimism, her hardworking ways against his indolent energy, her heart which was full of love against his shattered, broken ones, her faith against his mistrust and her excitement against his apathy.

It wasn’t a surprise that he stared at her stoically when she was on the toes of her feet, smiling wide with unrestrained excitement of a new discovery.

“You have heard of the myth, haven’t you? Some said that time can be transferred between two kindred souls. That was what just happened! That was very smart of me to notice, very perceptive,” she beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Why are you not the least bit pleased by – “

She stopped abruptly. The light ebbed away.

“You knew,” her lips parted in a soft, disbelieving whisper. “All these while, you knew and you have never…”

Clenching his jaws, Haymitch left the bathroom without another word to her.

“How did you know?” she hurried after him, placing a hand on his arm.

"Leave it, sweetheart."

"I will not. You will answer me."

He spun around sharply and sneered at her. " _I_ don't answer to _you_."

"Don't be childish, Haymitch," she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please. Please, can we talk about this?"

"There's nothin’ to talk about."

He disappeared into her bedroom and started throwing clothes into his duffel bag. Her own bag was already packed and sitting at the foot of her bed.

Effie followed. Of course, she did and sat on the bed, taking out everything he had haphazardly packed and folded them neatly.

With a sigh, he settled next to her and his hands were soon on hers. It roamed her back and slipped under her blouse. He buried his nose in her hair, kissed her jaw and her neck and distracted her with soft strokes of his finger on her stomach.

She was quite for a long while and he was deluded into thinking that it was over. He should know better when it came to her.

“You gave your time to me,” she said out of the blue.

His fingers stilled. The tone of her voice made him wary. It was worded so that it sounded both like a question and a statement. He pulled his hand out from under her blouse and leaned back against the headboard. Denying it outright would make her suspicious but admitting it would open a can of worms he had no real desire to deal with at that moment.

She would want to talk about the _why_ and he was sure that talk would involve emotions and feelings. He wanted her. That should be enough but soul mates or not, they were still two different people and she might want more from him.

Worst, he didn’t want her to feel that she was indebted to him because he had definitely -

“- given it freely,” she said and it startled him.

_Can their bond allow them to read each other’s thoughts?_

He panicked for a split second as that possibility occurred to him.

“That was what you said, isn’t it? I overheard it out of context when I first woke up in the hospital. I didn’t know what it meant but now… ”

“So what, sweetheart?” he growled.

It was as good as an admission to her. She cried out - whether in dismay or horror or the fact that she was right, he didn’t know - and was on her feet in seconds.

“How long did you give me? How much time, Haymitch?”

He fixed her with a look to let her know he didn’t appreciate the question.

“Enough for you to get yourself fifty more years. And sweetheart? You don’t ask someone the price of the gift they gave you.”

“Haymitch, how much -”

“I don’t know!” he raised his voice. “I don’t know, okay?”

“How could you not know?” she pressed. “Even if you had no idea of your own lifespan, you should know how much you gave me.”

“It was just hours that I gave,” he deflected.

“Hours accumulate to days, to weeks and to years. You don’t just give someone your life and – “

“You were running out of time and it doesn’t matter to me how much of my hours or days or my fucking years I had to give you, Effie. It _doesn’t_ matter.”

“Why?” she stood in front of him. “Why?”

He heaved and looked away. He propped his hands on his hips, wondering if it wasn’t too late to walk out of her apartment.

“Why?” she asked again, slipping her hand into his palm and held it tight.

“I couldn’t let you die.”

“Because I’m your soulmate?”

“Because -” he hung his head.

He had thought about it night after night. Effie was one of his oldest friend and ally. Whatever kinship there was between their souls, he would like to think that without it, he would still want her to live through the war. She didn’t deserve to die, tortured at the hands of the Capitol.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know how much of what I’m doing is because of the connection and how much of it is _me._ ”

“Would you have done the same for Katniss and Peeta? Would you give them the hours of your life if it meant keeping them alive?”

_Would he?_

“Yes.”

Deep inside his heart, he knew he would. They are his responsibility. They are his, the same as Effie.

“There - you have your answer,” she brushed her fingers against his cheek and he felt himself calmed instantly at her touch. “The bond…. The connection… It binds us but how you choose to act, that’s _you_. The bond gave you a medium to transfer time to me and made it possible, that’s all.”

“Since when did you become so smart?”

“You gave me your time because you love me,” she said and held her breath.

“That’s presumptuous of you.”

“Big word,” she teased.

Effie crossed her arm and waited him out. It wasn’t lost on him that his answer meant more to her than anything else. More than finding out he was her soulmate, probably.

“I can’t lose you,” he told her, resting his palm against her cheek and she leaned against it. “I can’t lose you, Effie. I don’t regret the time I gave to you. It was worth it. Whatever little I gave, you’ve reaped half a century from it.”

“Forty-five years,” she corrected.

“Forty-five years,” he chuckled in agreement. “You should take back the five years you gave to me.”

“Most certainly not, it is bad manners to take back what was given.”

Effie did the math because suddenly, she was the one obsessed with their lifespan since he had accepted the fifteen, now twenty years that he had. Between them, there were sixty-five years. In the same tone that she would adopt when discussing the latest fashion in the Capitol, she told him that when divided equally, they could each have thirty-two years and six months.

“The way I see it, it’s simple really,” Effie said one afternoon as she curled next to him in front of the roaring fire in District Twelve. “I’ll give you twelve years and six more months! We’ll both have thirty two odd years to go. Same for you, same for me. Give me your arm, please.”

That resulted in a huge argument that went on for days and stretched for weeks. She was adamant and he was stubbornly refusing to agree with her plans. In fact, he even kept his distance because he didn’t trust her not to grab his arm and give him the years he declined to take from her.

“You ought to stop being so stubborn,” she huffed.

“Maybe you should have asked my opinion on it first,” he retorted. “It’s a fucking stupid plan.”

“No, it is not. Do you remember what you told me when we first worked together? Among the many names you called me you also accused me of being selfish. I am _still_ selfish.”

“I don’t see -”

“When you … leave me,” she said and he snorted because she still refused to use the word ‘die’, “in twenty years’ time, you will leave me all alone. I will suffer without you for twenty five years, Haymitch. I have been through enough. I refused to be on my own because that’s a whole new kind of suffering on its own.”

 “Stupid and blind,” he shot back. “What are Peeta and Katniss, huh? Ghosts?”

“You know it’s not the same.”

“It’s twelve years of your life that you want to give me to me, Effie. That’s a hell of a long time and a lot of years to cut from yours. You don’t just offer something like that to anyone.”

“You’re not just anyone,” she told him, “and you know that. You are mine and I am yours. We belonged _together_. I want a life _together_ with you.”

“Are you proposing?” he raised an eyebrow. “Should I get the bread so we can toast it? I mean, we’ve already got a fire going so…”

She threw an empty plate of sandwiches at his head and he ducked just in time, chuckling in amusement.

“This is hardly the time to joke!”

“I’m not joking,” he shrugged. “Giving me your time – your _years_ – is more serious than if you were to ask me to marry you. You realize that, yeah?”

“ _You’re_ supposed to ask me to marry you, you great oaf, not the other way round.”

“I didn’t know you were traditional,” he rolled his eyes.

“Haymitch! Kindly stop derailing the topic of conversation,” she huffed. “I am trying to have a dialogue here with you.”

“We’re talkin’ more than a decade here, sweetheart.”

“I know. I know how much I’m giving. I just - You don’t want to spend it with me,” she grimaced as the thought took form in her mind. “Is that it?”

“You’re shittin’ me right? _I_ asked you to come with me to Twelve. You’ve been here for months now and I still haven’t chased you out. You’re gonna still be here twenty years from now, yeah?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.

“How can that possibly make you think that I don’t want to spend what remains of my life with you? You think I don’t want you? Are you stupid?”

“Why can’t we talk without you insulting me?” she frowned. “So if you do want me, then what’s wrong with spending more of it together with me?”

“Effie – “

“Haymitch, please, the years mean nothing to me if it’s not with you. I don’t need those years if I can’t share my life with you.”

“I don’t want to live on borrowed time, sweetheart. If my time is up, it’s up.”

“It’s not borrowed if it’s _our_ time. What is mine is yours and what is yours is mine.”

She wore him down as she often did. When he finally concurred and as she kissed his lips, whispering to him that she loved him, she touched his arm and gave him the years and the months that would ensure they face through life together.

Haymitch Abernathy would never have the opportunity or the time to meet Rye Mellark had it not been for the years that belonged to Effie. He would have passed on two months before Rye’s birth and four months before Willow’s fifth birthday. Haymitch held the boy in his arms and in his ear, he told him, “I’ll live long enough for your twelfth birthday, kid.”

From the twelve years and six months that Effie gave him, he managed to witness a great many things. Katniss and Peeta became wonderful parents who loved each other despite not being each other’s soul mates. He attended Finn’s wedding and held Annie in his arms as she wept at her son’s wedding. Johanna, whenever she had a chance, was often a guest of Effie’s at his house. He saw her healed just as he did with Effie.

Twelve years was more than enough time for him to love Willow and Rye like his own, for him to teach them everything that he could and for him to answer questions they had about the Games. When Willow turned sixteen, and with one year left on his clock, he witnessed Willow meeting her own soulmate, a boy from the district who had kissed the burn scar on her knuckle by accident when he asked her out to a school dance.

Most importantly and one that that meant everything to him, he had twelve extra years to wake up each morning with Effie Trinket next to him, to watch her grow old with him and to build a life he never thought he could have together with someone who was meant _for_ him.

Time, he learnt, was invaluable and priceless. He would trade everything if he could have fifty more years in which he could share with Effie but he had seventy five years to him and it was enough, and Effie’s years were enough for her. He would have missed out on a lot of experiences if it wasn’t for her.

Living on borrowed time, something Effie still clicked her tongue in disapproval when he brought it up, was still living. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having already said their goodbyes to their families, and wanting some private time together, Haymitch let out his last breath with half an hour left to go on Effie’s clock. She climbed into bed and stretched out next to him, waiting for her time to run out.
> 
> That’s the end of this soulmate au! Thank you so much for reading this, leaving reviews on here and likes on tumblr. I hope you’ve enjoyed this as much as I did writing it :) I have another idea for a soulmate au involving the Red String of Fate so I might one day get around to writing it.
> 
> I also have another plot which was inspired by the concept in the movie ‘In Time’ involving the tributes in the arena. Aside from normal sponsor gifts, they can also be given time and if the Gamemakers feel that the Games are getting too boring, take away time from them to make things interesting. There is a twist of course. (Also Greenwich timezone reminds me too much of the Capitol). I have all these ideas but atm it’s not very well thought out so that was why I decided to write the soulmate AU first!
> 
> Anyway, please leave a review and let me know what you think of the story. Let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Hate it? :l
> 
> This will be a short fic, 3 chapters at most probably.


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